They followed the sandy road up to the house, which looked like a country tenement house, for it was large and neglected, and one of the folding front doors stood open. They stepped up to the big piazza and knocked, and in an instant there was a scraping and barking in the hall as if a dozen dogs were after them. Dick and Hills were both brave enough, but the pace they made down the walk and through the front gate would have done them credit in a footrace. “I see something moving up the road,” Hills exclaimed a moment later. “Just this side of that clump of bushes. But I’m afraid it’s only a white cow.” “No, it’s not,” Dick shouted, looking in the direction indicated. “It’s a white horse, and there’s a buggy behind it, and of course there’s somebody in the buggy. But it’s turning off into another road. Hurry up, Hills; we’ll intercept it.” By cutting across a large open field they came out in another road ahead of the buggy, and in a moment they were within speaking distance of its occupant. “Is this Port Monmouth, mister?” Dick asked. There was no reply for a moment, and Dick repeated the question. “Hello, Sumner! what are you doing here?” came a voice from the buggy. “Of course this is Port Monmouth; and a beautiful little place it is, for a blind man. Don’t you know my voice? I’m Atwater of the Herald. I just drove up from Long Branch. How did you get here?” “Hills of the World and I have just landed from a tug and been chased by dogs,” Dick laughed. “We’re looking for the telegraph office and the operator.” “Don’t worry about that, my child,” Atwater said. “I have the operator here in the buggy with me; picked him up as I passed his house. Follow us, and we’ll be at the telegraph office in a minute or two.” Dick and Hills followed the buggy, and soon the telegraph office was reached and opened. Each man reported himself to his office by wire in the same brief style:-- PORT MONMOUTH, N. J. The Daily Transport, New York: Arrived 11.30. SUMNER. “The operator tells me he knows nothing about the chief of police being here,” Atwater said, after the dispatches had been sent. “Nice situation, isn’t it?” Hills exclaimed--“to hunt the chief in a charming Jersey town without a light, where everybody is asleep.” “It won’t do to take any chances,” Dick said. “How many houses are there in the town, Atwater?” “About forty or fifty,” Atwater replied; “little bit of a place.” “Then it seems to me the only way is to visit every house and make inquiries,” Dick suggested. “We can divide the town into sections, and that will give us each about fifteen houses to go to.”